Desperation
by VenusJay
Summary: There is nothing so torturous as to want what you can't have. It is worse however when it is more than a want. It is a desperate need. Oh look at that, a review? Well now that just made my day like a banoffee pie.
1. Chapter 1

I felt like a puppy, waiting at the door for its master. I was anxious and excited, crossing and uncrossing my legs repeatedly. Why wasn't he home already? He always did this, said he would be home soon knowing he would be longer. I was practically panting at his feet when he came home when he did that. I had no patience for this sort of thing but I wasn't given an option. He would take his sweet time, cleaning up, taking the longest route home.

My phone bleeped and I pounced on it from across the room.

'What do you want for dinner', it asked. I didn't bloody well want dinner. This was an excuse of his to take even longer to come home. When I said I wasn't hungry he would childishly insist that if I didn't pick something he would pick for me and then force feed me it. I knew the last time after spicy chillied chicken that he was not making an empty threat. My throat was still practically raw.

I called his number and he didn't answer it. I called it again and it went straight to voicemail. I panicked. I had been bad and now he was punishing me for bothering him. For not trusting him to come home to me. I was in trouble. What had been earlier excitement for him to come home was quickly becoming an interminable fear. My phone bleeped again. It was not him.

Why was I like this with him? I was so strong and deadly, yet with him I melted into a messy pile of former me onto the carpet. When he came home and he was in a good mood, my heart would sing. And when he was in a bad mood, I would shriek and cry as he dragged me across the carpet by my hair but I secretly loved the thrill of it. He could break me, he could crush me, get inside my head and destroy me. But he never did. I liked to think it was because I had him whipped but I realised it was probably deluded to think that way.

I heard the door in the hallway and my muscles seized up in a tingling fear. His footsteps were slow and steady in comparison to my racing heartbeat. I felt like I might pass out when I saw him in the doorway. He stared at me with an icy glare.

"Living room," he said slowly in a monotone. It would have been unwise to disobey so I practically ran there while I heard him in the kitchen. He opened drawers and rattled cutlery before joining me in the front room. I stood by the sofa, unsure of how to react even though I knew the drill by now.

He sat down and set the dish of food on the side table.

"Sit," he said sternly and I curled onto his lap, afraid of hurting him. There was a sly smile across his face and it only made me more afraid of him.

"Open," he ordered, a forkful of chinese food an inch from my mouth. I did and he fed it to me like a small child that couldn't be trusted not to cover themselves with it. He even partially opened his own mouth in demonstration of what he wanted me to do. I tried to say something but he shushed me and held another forkful, alternating between feeding me and feeding himself. Finally the plate was empty and I was relieved he hadn't been cruel to me and picked something horrible like the chilli. Or worse, the cashew nuts I had been allergic to and he watched me as I struggled to breathe on the floor.

I looked at him curiously, trying to anticipate what was coming next. Unceremoniously he stood up, dumping me onto the floor and causing me to whine in pain. I quietened under the dark look he gave me and I moved to follow him when he turned to leave. He gave a dark laugh and closed the bedroom door on me, leaving me knocking at it uselessly.

I stayed there for a while, not thinking of anything else to do but wait in hope. I heard stifled moans and gasps from behind the door as well as a torturous litany of my name from his lips. I had no doubt in my mind what he was doing and it was driving me crazy not to be in there. I practically scratched at the door in lust and desperation for the man that I could picture lazily sprawled out across the bed. Our bed.

"Sebby, please," I begged. "Please."


	2. Chapter 2

I hadn't heard from him in days and it was beginning to have its usual effect. I tried feigning disinterest to myself but it wasn't working. It annoyed me that I cared. He was my employee and dispensable. No he wasn't, he was more than that. So much more. I hated to admit it but I needed him.

The feeling I got when he would sidle up behind me and so casually put his hand on the back of my neck, forcing my head down for no other purpose than to prove I would submit to him at any moment. It was thrilling and intoxicating and I craved the feel of the tense muscles in his hands while they held onto me, ready to snap my neck and send me into a helpless paralysis. Each time I could practically hear the thought drifting absently through his mind. Temptation that he could so easily force himself to resist. That's what he was trained for and what he was best at. Control. Always.

I tried to calm my mind. I never wanted to need the drugs again. The way Sebastian had looked at me when he found me. I was a crumpled heap in the corner of the room, sweat plastered to me. He looked at me like he had never seen anything so pathetic. I wanted to be out. I wanted to kill something with my bare hands but I knew I would mess it up. Seb never did, he was perfect every time. A swift, silent bullet and instant death. Unless otherwise directed where he knew just how to drag it out.

Perhaps I could check on my Sherly. I hadn't heard from him in a while and I was beginning to become restless with the invisible little dance we were playing with each other. Sherlock was so convinced I was around that he would unravel the non-existent problems. I was given credit for the deviance that wasn't mine. I had no complaints.

I hovered my thumb over the keyboard, trying to think of something villainous to send him when a hand suddenly covered over my own, including the phone, prying it from my grasp.

"I leave for three days and you're bored already," he sighed, his breath ghosting over my neck and sending a warm chill down my spine. He squeezed his hand tighter around mine and moved closer to me, placing a hand at my waist to pull me towards him. I practically melted into him as he rested his chin on top of my head, breathing deeply.

"You never said you would be home," I complained childishly.

"So," he growled lowly.

"I'd appreciate some notice," I drawled sarcastically and immediately regretted it when he released me in one movement.

"Seb," I called after him as he headed for the bathroom, his interest in me now forgotten. He didn't even glance around at me. He slammed the door dramatically and I heard the shower start. He made no reaction when I threw a vase at the bathroom door, smashing it into pieces. I wanted it to be him. I wanted to scream and scratch at him, to claw his eyes and stab him over and over with knives. I wanted him to fall in the shower and lay bleeding across the tiles, creating a beautiful scarlet pattern for me to swirl my toes in.

I hated him. I hate him so much that I can barely stand to contain it. He is nothing to me. He believes himself to be important and special to me but he should know he is replaceable. I could easily find another sniper. He should know his place, below me.

"Seb, open the door," I screamed in anger, kicking at the door in my designer shoes. He surprised me by opening it, half clad in a towel, revealing the scars across his muscled chest. I stared as the water droplets wove their way down his skin, disappearing into the region I was so desperate for.

His strong hands pulled me up by my shirt collar and the rough starched fabric cut into my throat as he swept his tongue across my bottom lip. He turned and threw me into the wall, holding me with one arm across my throat. I could barely breathe but I doubted it was due to the pressure on my throat.

He gave me one more lingering kiss and then pulled away, causing me to crumple to the floor in a heap.

"Follow me and I will beat the shit out of your smug little face," he called from the bedroom. I knew he wasn't joking so I stayed where he had left me, panting loudly.

I hate him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Seb," I sighed softly as his lips ghosted over my hip bone. This was pure ecstasy. It was better than any drug from anywhere in any quantity. I had his attention and that was enough to send me reeling in an emotional, psychological and physical high.

The sheer bubbling hatred I felt for the times he simply ignored my existence made these rare occurrences even more eagerly anticipated. I needed this. The release and relaxation that was brought to my inner mind by his touch alone. I craved the feel of his slightly callused hands and their strong grip.

"What do you need," he whispered into my ear, nibbling lightly at the lobe and causing a shiver to begin in my lower back and making me spasm. he held out a hand to steady me, pulling back a little to look at me from above.

"You," I replied automatically, thinking he would accept my offering and finally give me what I needed but instead he sat up, his legs straddling my hips. He shook his head in disappointment and climbed off me gracefully.

"Wrong," he said coldly, pausing to pull his boxers on before sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room.

"What," I asked incredulously, sitting up myself and finding my feet tangled in the bed sheets.

I was breathing heavily now and tried to calm myself. What did he want from me? It had been nearly a month since the last time he had had sex with me and I didn't understand what I had done wrong. Was he just teasing me to drive me wild.

I was wild enough without the teasing but he always seemed up for more.

"I said, 'what do you need'," he repeated, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

"I need you to fuck me," I tried but he didn't react.

"This isn't about you, Jim," he sighed. "That's where you go wrong. You think all of this is about you. It's not."

He was torturing my mind even at a point where he was torturing my body. He was good. He was vicious and lethal in equal measure. I could learn from his ferocity.

"I need to make you feel good," I said desperately, moving towards him on the bed and smiling at him. "I need to serve you."

"I knew you would get there eventually," he chuckled darkly finally joining me on the bed. He grabbed my waist roughly and pushed me further up towards the headboard. My heart was practically screaming in excitement and he watched darkly as I kissed across his chest. He didn't push me away but instead humored me for a moment.

"All fours," he said abruptly and I complied, practically whining for his touch. His hand trailed lightly along my inner thigh and I parted my legs further to encourage his touch.

"Seb," I whispered and he brought a hand up to my left shoulder, massaging the strain and the tension there. I could feel the heat of him behind me and I let it envelope me as a form of comfort. I wanted to simply exist as an extension of him, to be absorbed into his existence in this moment. He kissed lightly along my back, breathing softly and causing shivers to run through me. I hated his teasing.

"Seb," I hissed, "I need you, please."

As soon as I said it I knew what I had done and he was off me in a flash buttoning a shirt up.

"Where are you going," I panted and he gave an icy glance in my direction.

"You never learn Jim."

It was pathetic to admit but the minute he left I burst into tears.


	4. Chapter 4

I was fast losing patience with the fumbling man in front of me. It amused me that he tried to reason with me, to explain why he hadn't done what had been asked of him. He looked ragged and worn in an expensive suit that had been ruined through age and wear. His face was lined and he had a constant appearance of being harried. I wondered why he had ever gotten into this sort of field. He could have had a nice job with a nice office and a nice life.

I wondered why the criminal life appealed to the idiotic underclass of the world. They seemed to want to ride on the coattails of others' success but when you gave them the simplest of tasks suddenly they had all these morals and lines they wouldn't cross. It had become infuriating. I suppose that's why I love the game with my Sherly. He had no morals. Not really.

"Mr Delaney," I interrupted his ramblings and he silenced immediately. "I understand."

He stared at me blankly.

"You do," he asked shakily, casting a glance at the man to my right, his eyes hovering over the gun in his hand.

"Of course. Accidents happen," I said softly. "You're only human after all," I laughed and he began to smile with me.

"Thank you Sir," he moved towards the desk a little and Sebastian tensed beside me, his finger on the trigger. My sniper watched warily as I stood, extending a hand to shake Mr Delaney's who looked elated.

"How's the wife," I asked causally and he replied that she was well. He seemed calmer now.

"What is she now? About five months or so," I inquired and he nodded.

"Yeah, we're going for another scan soon," he laughed nervously. "Should probably start getting the nursery together."

I smiled at him.

"Mmm," I sighed. "Shame."

His lip twitched.

"What is?"

I sat behind the desk again and crossed my legs.

"Shame you didn't do your job," I replied, nodding to Sebastian who quickly stepped towards the now panicking man.

"No please, you don't understand. I would have done it if I could but it was impossible," he cried, trying to pull from Sebastian's strong grip which was frankly laughable to watch.

"The thing about impossible, Mr Delaney, is that the very word itself says 'I'm possible'. Try not to get any blood on the carpet Seb," I hissed. I knew he wouldn't. Part of the reason I love him.

The screaming and resulting silence seemed extra delicious today.


	5. Chapter 5

What had I done?

I stared at my shaking hands as I tried to light a cigarette, the matches snapping like tiny little people between my fingers. I could hear their screams in my head, their silent pleas.

Oh God.

He would kill me for this. I knew he would. He would pull me towards him in a swift movement, bringing his switch blade up to draw a necklace of blood along my throat. He would watch me without mercy as I twitched on the ground and breathed my last. Or worse he would leave.

No, don't think like that. It would be okay. I could get rid of the thing, I had any number of idiots at my disposal to deal with this. He would never have to know.

I'd never known this sort of feeling before but it was definitely bad. Maybe it was guilt. It made me feel a kind of queasy ache in my stomach muscles. It made me hate myself.

It hadn't even been good. I thought maybe the release would have helped me calm my harried thoughts. It was of benefit to me, he should know that. He couldn't just decide when I needed to be held or touched. It was his fault for ignoring me, for disappearing for weeks on end.

Why didn't he just understand that I need him. He couldn't do this to me.

How could you do this to him?

Shut up, shut up! It wasn't like that.

Then what was it like Jim? Was it good, was it worth it?

No, I whined to myself. Maybe, I don't know. It wasn't him.

He had been beautiful though. Those incredible blue eyes, so absorbing and captivating. They reminded me of him.

You slept with another man Jim, he's not going to forgive you for that.

No, no, don't say that. He has to!

I don't have to do anything Jim.

Seb?

Seb, please.


	6. Chapter 6

I hopped up onto the kitchen counter and played with my phone. I didn't look at him. I couldn't look at him. I'd blurted out what I had done and expected him to scream at me, to hold me tenderly while he slowly cut deeper into my muscle tissues to rip out my own heart while I watched. I expected he would have become violent, I even anticipated some crying. He did none of those things, instead he ruined me with one word.

'So?'

I had looked at him, confused. I didn't understand the question.

"What do you mean 'So?'" I demanded petulantly.

"I mean 'So what?' He replied casually, lighting a cigarette and breathing it in deeply.

"I fucked another man Sebby," I laughed shrilly, trying to force a reaction from him. "And it was so good because I knew you were in some dirty little hideout doing a job for me because I own you and there I was," I cut off when he stepped towards me. I could feel his breath on me he was so close but he wasn't looking at me.

"You think I care?" He sneered at me, glancing up at me from underneath his dark lashes. He looked so god damn sexy even while he was breaking me into tiny pieces. I would prefer the knife to that.

"Yes," I breathed and he reached a hand up to hold my jaw.

"I work for you, don't delude yourself into thinking I care you for," he growled.

"I know you do," I snapped angrily. "You're my whipping boy, you just don't want to admit it," I yelled in a sing song. He didn't even flinch.

"Yeah, sure," he replied quietly, half sarcastic.

"I'm bored of you now, go away."

"Fine," he replied stonily turning to leave.

"So I can fuck whoever I want, yeah?"

I nudged his ass with my foot jokingly but he pushed it away venomously making me sway on the marble counter top.

"Sure, just not me."

"Oh for fuck sake Seb, just punch me and get over it. It's not like you care about me anyway," I screamed at him and gave a yelp when he launched at me over the counter, dragging me off the marble and to the floor. My head hit the tiles with a sickening thud and he swam into vision in front of me. I could feel him tugging at my shirt collar, shaking me while my vision did somersaults.

"I fucking hate you, you little shit," he roared at me before kissing me violently.

"Ngh, Seb," I cried out and he pulled me towards him, setting me in his lap and holding me as he leaned back against the counter. I kissed along his neck and he gave a soft moan.

"I love you," he whispered in a short sob. "I hate that I do, I hate you so much," he whispered while snuggling into me. "Someday, I'm going to hold you just like this and then I will end you and your miserable existence," he chuckled, lightly tapping me on the nose with an affectionate smile. "That day will be sooner if you ever fuck anyone else again, do you understand me?"

I nodded.

"Yes Sir."

He smiled. I melted.


	7. Chapter 7

"Boss?"

He whimpered in reply.

"Boss," I tried again, stepping closer slowly.

"Don't..call me that," he gave heavy sigh, his dark accent rolling like chocolate through my veins. "You should know that tiger," he laughed in a low chuckle.

"Jim," I whispered, kneeling beside him and cupping his cheek in my hand. He had a light stubble and his whole appearance look disheveled. He leant into my touch and I could feel the dampness on his skin. He'd been crying?

"Jim, look at me," I half pleaded. Times like this were not the time for raised voices. The last time he had skittered away from me like a frightened animal, refusing to let me near him as he hyperventilated.

He looked up at me through heavy lids, obviously half out of his mind.

"What did you take?"

He gave me a cheeky smile and let out a long sigh, resting his head back against the wall and leaving his throat exposed. I felt a pang of guilt when I saw the finger marks and bruising around his neck. I had been too rough with him. Dammit, why didn't he just speak up when I hurt him? Someday I would end up doing real damage.

You want to don't you?

Be quiet, now is not the time for this.

"Jim, I need you to tell me what you took," I shook him gently as his eyes closed. My heart gave a trill as he seemed to slip into unconsciousness.

"Jim," I tried, shaking him. He slowly opened them again, bleary eyed and confused.

"I just wanted to sleep," he moaned as I searched his pockets finding a small empty pill bottle.

"How many," I said, louder to get through to him. He didn't respond.

"How many," I practically roared, startling him and causing him to whimper.

"All of them," he whispered deviously.

Oh God.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him, kissing him on his clammy forehead. He blinked at me, watching me warily and trying to understand my apology.

"I'm sorry Jim," I told him again before forcing my fingers down his throat. He writhed against my hold and gagged, the sound of it filling the small room. It made my stomach roll but I carried on. I had to. I held his tiny, fragile frame as he threw up onto the floor, a number of small white pills amongst it. He wretched again and gave a strangled sob as I rubbed my hand over his back, holding him close to me and wiping at him with my sleeve.

"It's okay," I hushed him and he collapsed into me, panting loudly.

"Seb," he whined. "I was so close," he sobbed. "So fucking close."

"I know love but not yet, yeah? You can do better than that."

He gave a slow nod and closed his eyes, soon falling asleep against me.


	8. Chapter 8

Aloha peasants, I feel so lost in the wilderness of writing. I need some reviews to guide me. Mor or less? What do you think?


	9. Chapter 9

I looked at the limp figure in my arms. He was beyond tiny when I held him. He snored gently, cutting off each time I accidentally jossled him on the way up the stairs. He looked comical with his head lolled back and it was hard to think that the man I held struck fear in the hearts of many by his name alone. By his sheer existence.

He was stubborn as he was ruthless and no matter how much I bargained with him, shouted at him, threatened him or cajoled him, he refused to go to the hospital. I hadn't meant to hit his head after I dragged him off the counter. Hell, I hadn't even meant to go near him but he had struck a nerve with me. The little shit thought I didn't care. I wanted him to think it but it bloody hurt when he said it.

He'd passed out on me as I held him and no matter how much I shook him he wouldn't wake. I very nearly made the stupid mistake of calling an ambulance but Jim would skin me, again. I called the physician he had blackmailed into working for us. He was used to odd injuries in odd places and carried out his job with a stoic expression. I liked him. He informed me that Mr Moriarty probably had a concussion.

Said Mr Moriarty then woke up and proceeded to wreak havoc meaning I had to threaten the good doctor into giving him a sedative. He watched me with a pained expression as I held Jim down and plunged the needle into his throat as he shrieked bloody murder, clawing at me.

He seemed so harmless now as I tucked him into bed.

Watching him crawl around the kitchen on all fours as he spoke nonsense was probably the highlight of my year. He was like a drunken, angry toddler who didn't know how to work their own limbs. His laugh was manic and childlike as he chuckled at something only he could see.

"Sebby," he had whined, reaching his arms up to me off the kitchen floor. "Let's dance," he cried, his eyes wide in an expression at odds with his mood. I let the doctor out with a brief nod and returned to find him snoring on the tiles, medicated out of his psychotic little mind.

He was kind of cute like this. I didn't have to put up with his whining. I should do this more often.


	10. Chapter 10

I watched him through the window of Baker Street. He gazed thoughtfully to the street below, unaware of the bullet that could so easily be put through his head.

I so badly wanted to but I didn't have the instruction to do so. He would always say 'not yet' but I knew in reality he meant 'never'. When I first met Jim, I knew he would do damage. He knew exactly how to make you hurt, especially when you deserved it but somehow I hadn't expected him to hurt me like this. To make me pine for him while he yearned for another.

Sherlock. Always Sherlock. His equal and his nemesis. I would never be able to compete with that in his psychotic little mind. I would forever be a second prize, something to fill his needs and do his dirty work.

I wondered if I ought to tell him. How it felt to hear him whisper his name while he slept. A soft sigh of longing. I would watch as his eye lids twitched and his mind showed him his very own fantasies. Jim insisted he relished the thought of ruining Sherlock but I knew him better than that.

What was it about this man? He was superior in intelligence, that much was a given. I knew though that Jim was entranced by my strong physique, by being controlled. The thin, pale, curly haired man before me would never be what Jim wanted, what he needed. I was.

Why didn't the little shit see that? Perhaps he did and this was his way of playing games with me, to keep me interested and on my toes. My finger pulled tighter on the trigger out of my own anger and I pulled back with a sigh. That was too close. Jim would have killed me. No, I would have been begging him to kill me.

Come home. JM

I took apart the gun and made my way back to our apartment. Same as always, not yet.


	11. Chapter 11

"Oooooh, the chase is on tiger," Jim laughed manically, looking like his phone had given him extreme pleasure. "I knew he wouldn't have been able to resist."

Jim licked his lips excitedly, not looking at me.

"Get what you wanted," I asked, continuing to chop vegetables. Jim insisted we had a chef for a reason but I liked having the chance to make a few things.

"You knew I would darling," he laughed. "I always do. Oooh Sherlock. This is going to be delicious," he said with his eyes sparkling.

I said nothing, continuing to make dinner. Spiced risotto, Jim's favourite. We didn't say anything for the next half hour while I finished putting everything together.

"Jim?"

"What?"

"You love him, don't you."

I'd said it before I had even thought about saying it and he stopped typing. I stared down at the plates and dished up the food, feeling his eyes on me.

"What did you just say?"

I glared at him.

"Don't act like you didn't hear me," I hissed, startling myself with how womanly I sounded.

He stood from the sofa and walked towards me slowly with an inscrutable expression.

"Say it again," he whispered. I blinked at him.

"Say that," he paused, "again."

I ignored him and pushed past to the dining room. He followed, the sound of his shoes slick against the expensive wooden floor.

"Sebastian," he said threateningly as I sat down at the table and began to eat. He pulled the fork from my hand and held it against my neck.

"Who do you work for," he asked slowly in a low growl.

"You," I replied, already on autopilot. I was not allowed emotion in this job.

"Right," he replied, the sharp metal digging into me. "Don't forget that." He caressed my cheek with the edge of it, looking at me with a quizzical expression. It changed rapidly to one of anger and it took me a moment to realise I was holding him off the ground by his shirt. When had that happened?

He was an inch from my nose.

"Do you love him," I asked again, softly.

Jim was a demon, cold to the core and torturous beyond belief. Something in his eyes at that moment though, he softened. His look was one of quiet concern.

"Would it hurt you if I did?"

"Yes," I reluctantly admitted, the feel of his breath across me as we stared at each other, only a few centimeters apart now. He slowly brought his tongue across my lower lip and sighed.

"Then yes."


	12. Chapter 12

His laugh was like a madman. I pulled away as he clawed at my leg, trying to pull himself up. The blood continued to run from his nose and the sick little shit licked it into his mouth, a look of pure glee on his face.

"I've known it since the moment I first saw his beautiful face," he screamed at me. "I never wanted you. Who could want you next to him. His beautiful mind, his pale skin. Next to your matted scars," he laughed viciously. "You're nothing but a toy to me," he drawled, clearly enjoying himself.

I turned away and tried to find some kind of self control.

"You know you want to Seb," he said. "Hit me again, hit me," he cried, his expression one of absolute madness. "Hnnngh Seb," he moaned wantonly like some cheap whore. "Hit me harder," he yelled at me. He was trying to get to me. It was working.

"Why would I want you when I could have him," he hissed, torturing me. "You're nothing but gutter trash, useless until I found some purpose for you."

I walked to the bedroom, trying to make it stop but he followed.

"He's brilliant Seb. I light up his dull little world. I'm all he thinks about, twenty four seven. Not like you," he added bitterly. "I'm a pay-cheque to you. You leave me here, all the time. He yearns for me, pines for me."

He crept up behind me and placed a hand on the small of my back.

"Well Sebby?" Hmm? What, tiger got your tongue?"

He gave a blood curdling scream as I turned and snapped his wrist. His eyes widened with horror as the pain leaked through his bones.

"Sebastian," he cried, staring at me incredulously.

"Fuck," he whispered as he tried to pull away from me, his wrist probably in a world of pain.

"You need me," I reminded him. "You need me so you can play your stupid little games with him." I clenched my fist tighter, closing around his entire wrist and he gave a pathetic whimper.

"You think you could survive on your own?" I shook him and he paled, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. "Sure Moriarty could but he doesn't exist, does he Jim? Not without me he doesn't."

I threw him from me and he crumpled on the floor, clutching his arm to his chest and trying to stop me seeing the tears already streaming down his face.

"You seriously think, I would just let you go," I whispered. He looked like a small child, his hair an unruly mess and his eyes bleary and tired. Had he been in his glorified Westwood attire no doubt I would have simply appeased him, but no. His suit was crumpled like he was and I was clever enough to see the man behind the mask.

"Jim."

"What," he asked in a tone of pure hatred.

I knelt beside him gently. cupping his cheek in my hand.

"I love you," I told him, before kissing him gently on the lips.

"I love you too," he replied, blood running past his lips and down his chin. He rocked back and forth, holding his arm and he moaned when I pulled him into a hug, probably hurting him.

"I'll be back in an hour," I called, halfway to the door. "Eat your dinner."


	13. Chapter 13

I could feel the cold weight of his cast as it rested on my thigh. I threaded my fingers through his hair to pull him closer. I could hear him gag but I just leant back in enjoyment, letting out a contented sigh.

"Yeah, like that," I told him and he repeated the motion enthusiastically, his eyes twinkling at me mischievously. I smiled lazily down at him and he smoothed his hand along my stomach muscles. The motion reminded me of my army days, the first time when sexual need had become desperate for us all and favours were exchanged.

There had been a moment with one of the privates when he had slowly worked his mouth around me. I'd been enjoying it until he reached up a hand to rest on my chest. It had been far too intimate and I had punched him for it. Now though, I craved Jim's touch. I wanted some level of intimacy from the porcelain figure of a man.

I laughed at the sight of his disheveled tie when he pulled back from me, a wide grin on his face.

"You're so sexy," he said wistfully.

I pulled him back towards me.

"Obviously."


	14. Chapter 14

"You did what?"

He looked up at me, his eyes gleaming. Which was strange owing to their eternal darkness.

"We just talked," he said petulantly, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork.

"Why didn't you tell me where you were going," I demanded, furious at his stupidity. He seemed agitated now.

"Why does it matter, I don't answer to you, you work for me remember."

"What if he had hurt you, why didn't you make sure you had backup," I asked, more and more aggravated by the smug little smile on his face.

"He wouldn't hurt me Seb, he needs me."

I pushed my plate away from me, having lost my appetite.

"What did you say to him?"

He grinned now.

"I told him I owed him a fall, that there would be the final problem, it was brilliant Seb. You should have seen the look of confusion, he thinks he's so clever but I am so much better than he will ever be."

"Whatever," I replied quietly, putting my plate by the sink and going outside to smoke. He followed me and stood in the doorway.

"I need to talk to you," he said in a small voice, his hands in his pockets and eyes on the ground. He scuffed his shoe along the step.

"What is it," I asked wearily. No doubt he would begin another rant about the wonders of Sherlock Holmes, his brilliance and his beauty.

"This is it, Seb," he murmured. "The final problem."

I stopped, the cigarette halfway to my mouth, match in hand.

"What are you talking about?"

His hand slowly came up to let his fingers caress my arm. He watched his own movements with a childlike curiosity.

"This is the end, once I ruin him. It's over."

"Right, okay," I replied warily, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag on it.

"I thought you wanted to end him," I asked, confused by his sullen manner.

"No, Seb. I mean the end of us, the end of me."

I froze, my stomach clenching.

"What?"

He brought his hand up to touch my cheek.

"Come inside," he whined, his small form growing cold much faster than mine.

"Tell me what you mean," I growled darkly. He hesitated.

"It's part of the plan Seb, I'm going to that rooftop but I'm not coming back." He gave a watery smile at me.

"You think you're some sort of martyr," I whispered, staring at him, seeing him for the first time.

"I have to, Seb."

Why did I feel like this? Like what he had said was any shock to me. For so long now I had respected this man, lusted after him and come to love him. In this moment I thought of the times when I had made him squeal with delight from my affections. I heard us both madly laughing, lying on the floor with no energy or desire to stop. I felt him wrapped in my arms, warm and safe. Happy. I had deluded myself into thinking that just maybe we were like any other normal couple.

A part of me had been stupid enough to think that he felt some kind of love for me. At least, any form of love that he was capable of feeling. This scrawny little alley cat with monstrous claws and a worse bite that had managed to slink its way into my life and into my very existence. I would have ceased to exist without Jim. Slowly wasting away in some dive.

"James," I said softly, his facial expression changing in an instant to something I had rarely seen in the time I had known him. It looked something like regret.

"What do you need me to do?"

He stared at me. It seemed like an age before he spoke. He ran through the plan he had been formulating, giving me the required details and skipping over the idea of emotion. There was a lengthy silence when he finished and I was wise enough not to break it.

My skinny little alley cat moved towards me, pushing my arms open and wrapping his arms around my waist, pressed close to my chest. I held him to me and felt him shivering. He didn't let go so I dragged us both back inside, untangling myself so I could lift him in my arms and carry him upstairs to the bedroom.

I was sure he anticipated my usual aggressive actions fueled by lust but instead I just laid him down before snuggling up behind him. My thoughts raced over what was yet to come in the future and I tried to suppress them. Jim continued to quiver and I could hear muffled sniffling. I wouldn't have embarrassed him by acknowledging his tears, I feared he would feel my own on his neck but he didn't speak. We fell asleep like that, the last thoughts in my mind whether I would be granted the mercy of being allowed to put a bullet in my own brain. I would need to erase the thought of the bullet he was going to put in his own.


	15. Chapter 15

There was nothing. No yelling or screaming in anger, no trying to persuade me or threaten me. He wasn't trying to stop me. He just asked what was needed of him. I wanted to shake him for reasons that were unclear to me. He was worthless, so why did I want him to become depressed at the thought that I was planning to kill myself?

It had been two days and still nothing. He carried out the plan with a stoic efficiency. One I couldn't bear to watch him in. His calm and logical demeanor, obeying his master. There was a beautiful anticipation residing within me of the glorious downfall of Sherlock Holmes. I had been waiting for this.

"Everything is in place," he told me one evening as I sat in my office. Something sentimental had gotten to me and I looked about the place with a type of fondness. I laughed at the sight of the tiger skin rug on the floor and I felt an odd pang within me when I realised that nowhere did there exist a photograph of either of us. After today, existence would just stop. How strange it felt.

"Boss?"

Boss? Why had he called me that? I scrutinised his features from across the room. He had no emotion anywhere on his face.

"It's time to go," he reminded me carefully. I nodded once.

"I'm aware Moran," I drawled, my insides twisting when he merely blinked at me. Here I walked to my death and he didn't even want to walk alongside me. I had been fooled into believing in loyalty. Lifting my coat from the back of my chair I led the way to the car, knowing we would soon have to part ways for him to find his vantage point.

Driving through London on any ordinary day would take years and yet today, we were there in a moment. I glanced to my right, my sniper looking straight through me. I put my hand to the door handle and he stopped me, placing his hand over mine, his body pressed against me. His breathe was warm against me and I let my eyes close for a moment.

His eyes met mine and stayed there, saying everything without words. I left him before I wouldn't be able to, making my way easily to the rooftop and taking a seat to wait. Now all that was left was to bring the fly into my web.

I pondered on how all this time I had believed I knew Sebastian. I believed he had a level of passable intelligence but he would never rival my own, he would never reach the level of the Holmes brothers. He was company and useful to me but he was not on par with the workings of the mind. Perhaps I had been wrong.

It became obvious to me now that he had a hidden level of genius, something residing in emotion. He could break someone who was unbreakable in one word, one syllable. I had never given him credit for that. Now I was thankful though. I was thankful that he had been the one to kill me rather than having to do it myself.

He had always called me Jim. He had pulled away that part of me and revealed the real me underneath.

'James', I remembered him sighing softly in the porchway that night. 'Boss', he had called me this morning. Today was not my day to die, he had already seen to that. He had been clever enough to kill the rest of me leaving only Moriarty. The final problem.


	16. Chapter 16

"How would you like a job?"

A dark figure loomed above me, hidden from clear view by the darkness of the alleyway.

"What," I mumbled, still half asleep and half frozen.

"A job. I have one for you. Do you want it?"

I thought of the last few times and felt repulsion run through my veins once more. I needed the money though so I stood on shaky legs and tried to gain a better assessment of his features. He looked clean at least, pretty vicious though. After all, no normal person would look for sex down a darkened alley way with a stranger. A sure sign I was in for a lot of pain. I could take it though.

"Here, or do you want to go some place else," I asked, hoping I would at least have somewhere warm to stay for a little while.

"Keep your pants on Moran, not that kind of job," he chuckled darkly, his eyes roaming over my figure. "At least, not right now."

"How do you know my name?"

* * *

It was done. It was over. Moriarty was gone, taking my Jim with him. I stared down at the broken carcass at my feet and felt nothing. I had nothing left within me. The moment he had breathed his last, so had I. I thought about the minute I had first met him. It made me laugh darkly.

"I guess this is what we get and what we deserve," I spoke aloud, knowing I would receive no reply. I set about the tasks I had been given, feeling like a vulture as I searched his pocket for his phone. I badly wanted to close his eyes but I knew I had to be careful not to leave too much of a trace. I put the phone in my pocket and knelt beside him, knowing I had to leave but not wanting to.

I lay down on the ground beside him and rested my head on his chest, greeted by the silence where there had once been a heartbeat. He was still a little warm. I breathed in the smell of him, his expensive cologne and shampoo. The smell of his dry cleaned suit. Below me there was a commotion about Sherlock's body. I hated to think about what would happen to Jim's. I wanted to stay and protect him but I left, swiftly disappearing down staircases and into a waiting car. Now was not the time to give up on the plan.

No doubt Holmes had put his brother on my tail and suddenly the tiger had become the mouse, being chased around London by an overfed house cat. Jim would have laughed at that. There were things to be done.

I spent the lengthy car journey torturing myself by reading through messages from Jim.

Come home.

Bring food.

Sebby, I'm tired.

I told you so.

I'm waiting.

Moriarty was a man of many words, but Jim was a child of few. I allowed myself to remember the high pitched sounds he used to make when I tickled him or snuggled him close to me. I think I would have lived quiet happily with that man forever. We would have quietly continued a secret existence until one day deciding that we were done and ending it all. Sherlock Holmes had ruined that.

We ruined him Sebby.

I smiled. I know Jim.


End file.
